


It's sort of like a metaphor for their relationship, if you look at it under a black light.

by lone_lilly



Category: Grey's Anatomy.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-05
Updated: 2006-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-11 17:04:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lone_lilly/pseuds/lone_lilly





	It's sort of like a metaphor for their relationship, if you look at it under a black light.

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

| 

  
[ga: derek](http://la-scapigliata.dreamwidth.org/tag/ga:+derek), [ga: derek/meredith](http://la-scapigliata.dreamwidth.org/tag/ga:+derek/meredith), [ga: meredith](http://la-scapigliata.dreamwidth.org/tag/ga:+meredith), [grey's anatomy](http://la-scapigliata.dreamwidth.org/tag/grey%27s+anatomy), [porn challenge](http://la-scapigliata.dreamwidth.org/tag/porn+challenge)  
  
  
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It's sort of like a metaphor for their relationship. [grey's anatomy porn challenge.]

**Title:** It's sort of like a metaphor for their relationship, if you look at it under a black light.  
**Fandom:** _Grey's Anatomy._  
**Pairing: ** Derek/Meredith.  
**Rating:** NC-17.  
**Words:** 978.

  
for [the _Grey's Anatomy_ Porn Challenge](http://pirateygoodness.livejournal.com/37705.html).

  
  
She sees him in the window's reflection as he approaches. His hair is mussed and his eyes are heavy-lidded from sleep and she thinks he looks happy for the first time in a long time. Her own image staring back at her just looks guilty and she envies him for not being a neurotic mess like she is.

"Meredith," he says right next to her ear, his eyes meeting hers in the glass. She tries to look away, to see anything else but him, but she can't help herself. She's never been good at turning away from him.

He toys with the straps of her nightgown, his thumbs brushing against her shoulder blades before he drops his hands to her waist. In spite of herself, she leans back with a sigh and she can feel him smile into her hair.

"Come back to bed."

She wants to. God, she _wants_ nothing more than to tumble into bed with him again, but she can't. They can't. Somewhere between falling asleep next to him earlier and now, she's managed to freak herself out. It's ridiculous and she knows it, but she isn't sure she can forget everything that's passed between them.

They've hurt too many people, each other, and it can't be this easy. Nothing in her life is ever this easy. They should talk about things. They should start over slowly. They should _wait_.

But he's there in her room _now_, and his hands are slipping up her stomach to cup her breasts and she's finding it difficult to maintain her resolve.

"Meredith?" he says again and she can see the amused confusion on his face.

She hates him for this, and herself, because she should want better than a love based on lies and adultery. But when he looks at her like that and he touches her like this, she can't breathe. She can't breathe and arousal spreads from her belly out and the memory of how it feels when he's inside her makes her lightheaded. She should hate him for knowing how to manipulate her but instead she _likes_ it. Wants it. Craves the dizziness and that warm, sleepy melting away of her resistance.

So she gives in. Just like he knew she would. Like they both did.

"Derek."

He seems pleased with that and he rewards her by sweeping his fingertips over her nipples, bringing them to hardened peaks. Each pull of his thumb and forefinger scrapes the silk against her flesh and a matching throb settles between her legs.

She sighs again, arching into his hands and turning her head so she can find his mouth. He kisses her with maddening slowness, pulling away whenever she tries to deepen the intensity. She makes a noise of frustration and he answers by sliding his fingers over her ribs, her stomach, her thigh, and underneath her gown to where she's more than ready for him.

He teases her first, caressing the crease between her thigh and sex, the folds protecting her entrance, pushing the tip of one finger inside her and then out again. Every once in awhile he circles her clit lightly, and she squirms, trying to push herself on him, force him inside her. She wants more, more of this, more of him. But like with his kisses, he refuses to give her what she wants, only strengthening that ache inside her, but never satisfying it.

"Derek," she whines, opening her eyes to find his reflection again. She's not surprised to see he's still watching her. He's always watching her.

"Choose me," he says simply, his thumb barely grazing the bundle of nerves at her center before resting against it.

Her head tilts to the side of its own accord and she frowns.

"I already did," she whimpers and thrusts her hips forward.

"Choose me again." His voice is soft and demanding, and she can no more resist him now than she could at the prom. "No one else is here," he promises. "It's our turn now."

She envies the way he can shift his focus onto her so completely, the way he can forget all the months and the people and the fights, and only see her.

"Choose me," he says a third time, and this time his fingers start moving deliberately. There's one inside her, then two, curling along the curve of her body as his thumb flicks steadily against her clit.

His mouth finds her neck, teeth scraping the corded muscles underneath her thin skin, his tongue soothing away the red marks he leaves behind. And all the while his fingers dance over her and in her, and even as wet as she is, more turned on than she can remember being in a long, long time, she still can't come.

Not until she says his name. Not until she picks him, chooses the two of them. Not until she says yes and then his fingers shift inside her, locating the rough patch of nerve endings and stroking it while his thumb spins around her clitoris from root to tip.

Only then, when she truly surrenders, does her orgasm hit her with full force. Her toes curl as the heat spreads up and out, and bright flashes of light ping behind her eyelids. She can hear her own voice crying out in desperate mewls and she can hear him whispering promises in her ear.

He holds her through the first orgasm, coaxing a second out of her before she can realize it's going to happen. Then those same fingers that have been driving her insane still, settling against her sex as her breathing slows and her body stops shaking.

"Come back to bed," he says again, when he knows she can stand on her own. He steps away from her, taking her hand in his and pulling her toward the bed, smiling at her when she follows.

As if she wouldn't follow him anywhere. As if she hasn't already.  



End file.
